


The Men of Eureka

by Spikedluv



Category: Eureka
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack, Nathan, a photo shoot gone horribly, horribly . . . right. *g*</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Men of Eureka

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fifth Fest at smallfandomfest using the prompt: Jack/Nathan, tight pants.
> 
> Written: June 9, 2009

  


 

“But . . . I’m not a scientist,” Jack insisted, watching Zane -- wearing black leather pants and a white shirt with puffed sleeves and lacing, the laces undone nearly to his navel -- follow the photographer’s instructions until it looked like he was making love to the motorcycle he was posing atop of, instead of merely riding it.

It was a bit disturbing.

“Being a scientist isn’t a requirement,” Allison said, her tone telling Jack that he was trying her patience. “The calendar is called ‘The Men of Eureka’, not ‘The Scientists of Eureka’, and it’s for a good cause.”

Jack was prevented from responding by Vincent hustling up to them, breathless. “Sheriff Carter, Dr. Blake.”

“Good morning, Vincent,” Allison greeted him.

“Hey, Vince. Whatcha got there?”

Vincent indicated the box he held. “I brought over some pastries and some Vin-spressos for everyone. Care for one?”

Jack reached into the box for a pastry. “Don’t mind if I do, thanks.”

“I’m good, thank you,” Allison politely declined.

From the way her eyes jittered around the room and she tapped that pencil she held, Jack figured she’d already exceeded her daily allowance of caffeine.

“I’m not late, am I?” Vincent asked.

Allison consulted her clipboard. “No. Nathan is after Zane, then Fargo, then you. Then Jack.” She glared at Jack as if she could eyeball him into submission, then turned her attention back to Vincent. “You should probably get to make-up and costuming, though.”

“Okay, I’ll just . . . .” He looked around for a flat surface to unload his goodie box onto, then shoved it into Jack’s arms. “Here, thanks.” With a hurried wave, Vincent rushed off.

Jack wondered if Vincent would be wearing leather pants for his photo shoot, as well, then shook his head to erase that image. He tried to remember where they’d been before Vincent showed up, something about, oh yes, a good cause.

“Doesn’t the school get enough funding?”

“For academics, yes, but the students need to raise funds for other school activities, such as the prom, or the senior trip.” Allison waggled the pencil at him. “Besides, you promised Zoe.”

“Yeah, but that was before I knew it was . . . .” He gestured towards the area where the photographer had set up his lights and camera. And the damned motorcycle.

“You’re not getting out of this, Carter,” Allison said with finality.

“Don’t tell me, one of the billion forms I signed when I first got here obligates me to participate in all fundraisers?” Jack said, resigned.

Allison’s smile was kind of scary.

Jack sighed. “I don’t suppose I also managed to sign away my first born?”

“Only if Zoe shows a genius-level aptitude for science,” Allison said.

Jack’s head whipped around and Allison burst out laughing. “I’m joking, Carter.”

“You never know around here.”

Jack took a deep breath and geared himself up for another argument. The wind was taken out of his sails when Nathan Stark appeared to take Zane’s place in front of the camera. Nathan had been outfitted in a pair of tight blue jeans, a white t-shirt that pulled taut across his chest, and a pair of black boots. A short black leather jacket allowed Jack to see just how the denim hugged Nathan’s ass as he lifted one leg to straddle the motorcycle.

Jack couldn’t contain his, “Jesus Christ, did they paint those jeans on him?”

Allison lifted her head to see what Jack was talking about. Her eyes went wide, her skin flushed. “Oh, my,” she said, fanning herself with the clipboard.

Jack felt a little bit warm himself. He watched as Nathan nodded at whatever the photographer had said, then leaned back on the motorcycle. He braced one foot on the foot rest, the other leg splayed out straight, and placed a hand on his groin, as if he were framing himself. The photographer made disturbingly erotic sounds of approval as he peered through the camera lens, and then started clicking pictures.

As his cock responded to Nathan’s sexy pose, Jack was suddenly very glad that he had Vincent’s box of goodies to hold in front of himself. When the photographer was done with him, they spent a few minutes talking and smiling. Nathan stood with both hands on his hips, but instead of infuriating Jack, it made him want to slide his own hands over the denim that fit Nathan’s hips and legs like a glove.

Before he left the room, Nathan glanced over at them, sketched a wave in their direction. As stupid an idea as it was, Jack’s body insisted that he should follow Nathan into the dressing room and peel Nathan out of those jeans.

“Get going, Carter,” Allison said.

Jack, his mind still caught on the image of Nathan in those jeans (and how he’d like to get him _out_ of them), jerked out of his reverie. “What?”

Allison pointed with her pencil. “Hair, make-up, costuming, go!”

Jack quickly found a place to set the box and went. He blamed it all on wanting to catch another glimpse of Nathan in those jeans, the sexy bastard, and refused to admit, even to himself, that Allison scared him just a little bit.

Nathan had seemingly disappeared into thin air (which was a good thing, Jack told himself. No sense making a fool of himself -- or more of a fool of himself -- over Nathan Stark.), so Jack allowed himself to be dragged into hair and make-up.

Dressed in suit pants, a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the throat, and a loose tie hanging around his neck, Jack stood in the wings and watched the photographer direct Vincent, waiting his turn. Not happy about it, but resigned to his fate.

“Carter.”

Jack’s breath caught in his throat. “Nathan.” He slowly turned around to face Nathan, and his blood immediately headed south. Nathan was still wearing the costume he’d been photographed in, including those damned jeans. “Don’t you have to give those back?” Jack asked, his voice cracking.

Nathan glanced down, as if he couldn’t remember what he was wearing, then slowly raised his eyes back to Jack’s, after a long, leisurely stroll up Jack’s body. “What, these old things?”

Jack shivered at the look, and the idea that Nathan owned the outfit he wore, had worn it before, would wear it _again_ , made Jack’s tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth.

Before Jack could get a word out, Nathan said, “You like it?”

He settled his hands on his hips, and Jack couldn’t stop his eyes from sliding down Nathan’s body to the bulge beneath the denim. Jack tried to speak, then cleared his throat and tried again. “What makes you think that?”

Nathan smiled and Jack’s knees went a little weak at the way the skin crinkled at the corners of Nathan’s eyes. Nathan reached out and tugged on the loose hanging ends of Jack’s tie. “You’re up, Carter.”

An embarrassed flush heated Jack’s cheeks. “What?”

Nathan lifted his chin to gesture behind Jack. “Your turn in front of the camera.”

“Oh, I . . . .” Jack looked over his shoulder to see Vincent sharing some final wisdom with the photographer. When he turned back, Nathan was gone.

Once he got out there, Jack was actually glad that he had thoughts of Nathan to distract him from the photo shoot. He didn’t think he’d ever been more uncomfortable in his life. Jack had done some undercover work, but he’d never felt so . . . _objectified_ before.

The photographer had him pose straddling the bike, first leaning forward, arms resting on the handlebars, then turned around so that his back rested against them, and then finally just sitting on the edge of the seat, both feet on the floor, hands braced on the seat at his sides. He’d never been so relieved as when the photographer said they were done.

He didn’t run into Nathan on his way back to the small room they’d assigned him to change in, and Jack told himself that he was glad about that, as well. He flipped the light switch on, then shut the door and made sure it was locked. He turned around, already reaching up to slip the tie from around his neck, and Jack nearly shrieked like a little girl when he saw Nathan sitting in one of the chairs.

Nathan leaned back in the chair, arms resting on the armrests, legs crossed. Even in jeans and a leather jacket, Nathan looked hot. Elegant, Jack meant. And also hot. Jack groaned. It was so unfair, this stupid attraction he had to Nathan, who was a monumental pain in his ass.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Nathan’s eyes burned a path down Jack’s body, then back up until they met his eyes. “What do you think?”

“No,” Jack said. His breath caught in his throat as Nathan leisurely pushed himself out of the chair, and he choked on the word.

He held out one hand defensively, even as his heart pounded in anticipation. “We agreed that we weren’t doing this again.”

“I changed my mind,” Nathan said, stalking Jack across the room, backing him up until Jack’s shoulders hit the wall.

Jack would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. About the first (and last) time they’d had ‘accidental, it’s a mistake, we’re never doing this again’ sex. About the way Nathan had felt over him, the sounds Nathan had made as he’d pressed into him. And, ironically, about doing it again. He’d jerked off nearly every night the past three weeks with the image of Nathan’s hand (or mouth, or ass) on his dick, came with Nathan’s name on his tongue.

His knees were already going weak at the memory of how completely Nathan had taken him apart, his resolve crumbling to dust. Jack tried one more time to object. “Nathan.”

“Jack,” Nathan said, standing so close that Jack could feel the warm breath feather across his cheek.

“This is a mistake,” Jack said, even as he reached for Nathan, slid his hands around Nathan’s hips and over the tight denim he’d been fixated on since the moment he’d seen Nathan straddle that damned bike.

“Waiting so long was the mistake,” Nathan said with the surety of someone who was used to being right.

Jack slid his fingers beneath the leather jacket, pressed gently against the small of Nathan’s back. Nathan moved in until they were pressed together, his cock snugged up against Jack’s.

Jack let his head fall back, moaned as Nathan rubbed their groins together.

“Still think this is a mistake, Jack?” Nathan asked, sounding much too smug for Jack’s liking.

“Yes,” Jack managed to get out, even as he slipped one hand back down to squeeze Nathan’s ass, brought the other up to cup the back of his head.

Before Nathan could comment (and piss Jack off, derailing the fun train that was currently careening out of control), Jack dragged their mouths together. The moan that came out of Nathan’s mouth was appreciated more than any words could have been.

(Though, to be honest, Jack had been pretty partial to Nathan’s whispered, “Tell me you want it, Carter,” and “Gonna fuck your sweet ass so hard.” Not that he’d ever admit that to Nathan, who would never let him live it down. Of course, Jack had only to remind Nathan that he thought Jack’s ass was _sweet_ , and they’d be even. Probably. Jack had a difficult time determining if he’d gotten the upper hand with Nathan Stark.)

Jack yelped when Nathan bit his lip. “Damn it, Nathan, what was that for?”

“I want your full attention,” Nathan said, and Jack would have compared him to a sulking 12-year old if Nathan hadn’t chosen that moment to slide their hips together as a reminder of exactly why he wanted Jack’s full attention.

Jack’s hand tightened reflexively on Nathan’s ass as he gasped, “Okay, okay, you got it.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

Nathan pulled away when Jack tried to kiss him again.

“Not important, Nathan,” Jack ground out.

When Nathan merely stood there, waiting, Jack said, “Seriously, now? What happened to wanting my full attention and . . . ?” He shifted his own hips and was gratified to hear Nathan’s sharp inhalation, see the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as his eyes fell shut.

While Nathan was distracted, Jack switched their positions, so that Nathan’s back was against the wall. He thrust against Nathan as he pulled him into another kiss. Nathan moaned into Jack’s mouth as he pushed back, and within moments they were rutting against each other, making enough noise for anyone walking down the corridor on the other side of the door to hear them.

Jack wasn’t an exhibitionist, so it came as a bit of a surprise that, instead of cooling his ardor, that fact just made him even hotter. He got one hand between them and found the hard length of Nathan’s dick. He squeezed and stroked Nathan through the denim, as he continued to work himself against Nathan’s hip.

They broke the kiss when it became impossible to hold, panted and moaned against each other’s lips as they drew closer to release.

“Nathan,” Jack breathed, his thrusts becoming erratic.

Nathan dragged the tails of Jack’s shirt from his pants and pressed the tips of his fingers to Jack’s side. Jack dropped his forehead to Nathan’s neck and shuddered, groaned out his release into Nathan’s skin.

Jack shivered when cool air replaced the heat of Nathan’s fingers at his side, only to have Nathan place his hand over Jack’s, curling his fingers around Jack’s and using both their hands to finish what Jack had started.

Jack would have done more to help, but Nathan was the only thing holding him up at the moment. Still, Jack thought there had to be _something_ he could do for Nathan. For example, Nathan’s throat was _right there_.

So Jack licked him.

The sound Nathan made would have had Jack coming in his pants if, well, if he hadn’t already done that. Jack wanted to hear it again, so he found a tempting bit of skin and sucked on it.

Nathan moaned and threw his head back, giving Jack better access. He moved their joined hands faster. Jack sucked harder, determined to leave a mark, and in an inspired bit of deductive reasoning, closed his teeth on the skin he’d been suckling.

Nathan groaned as his hips jerked against Jack, his cock swelled in their hands and then began spurting.

When Nathan was slumped boneless against the wall, Jack forced himself to release Nathan’s skin, then rested his head on Nathan’s shoulder. “We’re never doing this again,” he muttered as he made himself comfortable against Nathan.

And really, that was the only smart, the only _sane_ thing to do. Getting involved with Nathan Stark had to be the craziest thing Jack had ever considered. And that included moving to Eureka.

Still, when Nathan merely chuckled and said, “Until the next time,” Jack simply turned his hand in Nathan’s and threaded their fingers together.

Finally Jack roused himself enough to ask, “Do you think the next time might include a horizontal surface?”

“Depends where we are when you realize you can no longer resist my charms,” Nathan said.

Jack would have punched Nathan for that comment, but he was too busy trying to stay upright. Besides, Jack was very, very afraid that Nathan might be right.

The End


End file.
